


Letters from Bedelia to her Psychiatrist - An Excerpt

by ManaPotion



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedelia analyzes Hannibal, Character Analysis, Creepy Pining, Epistolary, Introspection, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Psychobabble, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Speculation, but like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 13:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManaPotion/pseuds/ManaPotion
Summary: There’s something pathetic about Hannibal Lecter. For all of the impeccable, sharp corners of his mind, he grasps at Will Graham with the ill-concealed clumsiness of a jealous child, coveting his favoured toy.





	Letters from Bedelia to her Psychiatrist - An Excerpt

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to the talented [TiggyMalvern](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiggyMalvern/profile) for being my beta reader for this!

_If you are reading these letters, then the likelihood that any information regarding Doctor Hannibal Lecter has fallen fully under federal investigation is high. As is the likelihood that I, at the time of your reading, may no longer be capable of presenting this information by any other means. If such is the case, medical records will not suffice. I have recorded my thoughts and conclusions here for you — for whatever insight into these circumstances they might bring. An epistolary contingency._

_I hope it never reaches you._

* * *

 

There’s something pathetic about Hannibal Lecter. For all of the impeccable, sharp corners of his mind, he grasps at Will Graham with the ill-concealed clumsiness of a jealous child, coveting his favoured toy.

He would take affront to hear me say that. He’s almost petulant, where Will is concerned.

We all want to be understood. Being understood is a symptom of intimacy. Intimacy is a genetically imprinted necessity for our survival as a species. Doctor Lecter, in spite of his condition, has not been spared this need — though, in him, it has grown out somewhat malformed. He believes he has found someone who not merely understands the admittedly shallow motivations for his behaviour, but someone worthy of him. Someone who does not simply follow the cause and effect of his actions with the bluntness of a cartographer, but who _feels_ them, as Hannibal does. Who sees them, as one would recognize their own face in a mirror. To an epicure of rarities, Will Graham, in his unassuming shell of corduroy and faded aftershave, must make a dazzling centerpiece.

Doctor Lecter’s distaste toward his patient Franklin was poorly concealed. I suspect he wanted me to see how objectionable he found the man. I cannot imagine it would escape a mind as calculated as Doctor Lecter’s, that his nausea at Franklin’s unilateral obsession was a response to seeing the reflection of himself in his patient. The reflection of his own, unwanted, unwelcomed desires toward Will Graham. In contrast to Franklin, Hannibal has merely exhibited more grace in cloaking his desperate grasping after the object of his affection.

Yes, again I say object. I’m not certain Doctor Lecter has the capacity to view human beings as more than objects surrounding him. Complex objects, feeling objects, perhaps, but objects, nonetheless. In the crudest sense, he isn’t wrong. Life is not scientifically defined. There is no chemical or physical difference between what we for the sake of nomenclature have termed organic, and inorganic hydrocarbon compounds. The molecular structure of living cells and inanimate material is undifferentiated — functionally interchangeable. Yet to one we attribute spirit, intellect, intent. To the other, nothingness. Base matter for our use, misuse, consumption.

I do not believe there is any such distinction in Hannibal Lecter’s mind. Doctor Lecter sees all of us as moving pieces. Misfiring neurons, overactive amygdalan responses. A complex network of stoichiometric processes, molecules binding blindly to receptors, together painting a portrait. Much of the time, Hannibal sees them as gauche, tired, redundant attempts at artistry. In the case of Will Graham, however. An unfolding masterpiece.

Before you upbraid me for projecting my wishes for Doctor Lecter to be made capable of experiencing affection without onslaught, let me make myself clear. I have no evidence to suggest my colleague’s attachment to his remarkable patient will in any way improve his own condition. In fact, quite the opposite.

In our sessions, Hannibal claims to desire the friendship of a kindred spirit, of another like himself. He is lying. He has met others like him, and he did not enjoy their company. Hannibal sees himself as an artist, ever seeking inspiration. He wishes to create not the perfect mirror of himself, but a sort of equal opposite. Naturally, he has a deficient ability to respect the self-determination of another human being. Doctor Lecter is in many ways the perfect primate: always curious, always analytical. Always manipulating.

He likes to poke at other humans, like a child at the edge of a pond. Watch the fish scatter as he breaks the surface. I see him every week, contorting the arms and legs of a new figurine until it twists and breaks.

He has learned to cloak the shallowness of his affect in a veneer of professionalism, of elegance and grace. He is, like any successful primate, an accomplished mimic. But he is forever withheld, by the very structure of his neurophysiology, from sincere connection with others of his kind.

How lonely the world must be for him.

Will Graham has the opposite talent. So-called pure empathy. An excess of mirror neurons. A dangerous capacity for induction. It does not surprise me that Hannibal Lecter would see Will as the perfect half to complete his whole. In his desire for companionship, at least, my colleague does not much differ from the rest of my former patients. And while that conclusion would displease him, Mr. Graham’s retreat from his doctor’s designs only draws Hannibal to him all the more keenly.

I have expressed my concern to my patient. But I also know Doctor Lecter well enough to realize my concerns have little power to dissuade him. He has narrowed in on the inscrutable Will Graham with a hundred thousand years’ worth of predatory and procreative instinct, cast and warped by emotional isolation and his own psychopathologies. And, because I know him, as much as anyone not in possession of Will Graham’s unique abilities can know him, I seal this letter with a warning:

Doctor Lecter would rather break his own toy than let another play with it.


End file.
